Read Online The Weight of Rain by Mariah Dietz - Free Book Online Page A

he’s a slob, and I sort of fear that my efforts are being seen as intrusive, but thus far, he hasn’t spoken to me about it until now. “Yeah. Have you been over there?”
    “I went to Yellowstone once, as a kid.”
    “That’s usually what people go for.”
    Kash returns the smile I’m giving him to show my statement, though true, is intended to be lighthearted. “What do you think of Portland?”
    “I love it. I love the people and the buzz around the city. I love the peaceful tranquility you find outside, and the food and music. I even love the rain.”
    His head shakes as he quietly laughs. “Nobody loves the rain.”
    “There’s something beautiful about it here. It’s intense. Almost cleansing.”
    “Yeah, until you nearly drown in a puddle or get pulled down a river running down Highway 26.”
    My cheeks lift so high my vision is slightly obscured as I nod my head in agreement. “I do sometimes feel like I need a raft. But there’s something special about this place. It just feels different.”
    “Is it all of the weirdos?”
    My cheeks are still stretched as I shake my head. “No. I have learned in my three years of being an unofficial Oregonian to recognize the transplants. There’s authentic weird, and then there’s trying to be weird.”
    There’s a quiet rumble of laughter from Kashton as he leans farther against the counter. “You don’t seem to try to pose as weird. Are you sticking to your clean-air, backwoods Montana image?”
    “Backwoods?” My eyebrows rise and my chin drops, making Kash’s laughter increase. “I am the definition of weird! I go to school for art.”
    “I ride a bike for a living,” he counters.
    “I know, but that’s cool. You do tricks, and jump, and…” my hands lift in the air to reflect movement, “…you do all that crazy stuff.”
    “You have no idea what I do, do you?”
    I shake my head and fight my lips from turning upward. “No, I really don’t.”
    “I’ll show you. Next week I get to be in the editing process of some videos and images that are going with this Swiss campaign. You can come check it out. Give me your expert art advice.”
    “I would love to, but I know nothing about film or photography. That’s a whole other world. Kind of like cooking.”
    He laughs again and then resituates his baseball hat as I see a thought cross his features. “I want to see some of your artwork. Kenzie says you’re pretty good.”
    I try to mask my surprise by shrugging.
    “Oh, so you’re one of those people.”
    “One of what people?”
    Kash shakes his head, curving his lips into a smile. “I’m not sure,” he admits with a chuckle. “Your reaction didn’t give me much. I was hoping you would either admit that you’re really good or play it off and act like you suck.” His eyes narrow slightly and then his index finger taps his temple. “I’ll get you figured out soon enough. First, I need to see some of your work. Show me something.”
    “I don’t have anything with me.” I don’t. My portfolio rarely travels with me.
    “Bullshit. Open your bag and show me something.”
    “You think I’m bluffing?”
    “No. I think you’re ignoring the fact that I know what it’s like to have a hobby that you love. You live it. You breathe it. A piece of it goes everywhere with you.”
    I nod a couple of times in silent understanding and then move to get my bag beside the kitchen table. Kash follows me, keeping a respectable gap between us, allowing me to choose what I want to reveal. I used to have a hard time showing people my work. There’s something very personal about it. I’m not showing you a scene or a person; I’m showing you how I see a scene or a person. In the last two years, that discomfort has ebbed as I’ve been trying to circulate my portfolio in an attempt to get my name out into some different circles. For some reason, showing Kash my work is comfortable, almost easy.
    His lips curl into a knowing smile as I lift a